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them wait."
Nate's eyes narrowed, staring her down. "'Fess up,
baby doll. What did y'all get?"
"Oh-ho! Dangerous man. Come on." Dillon led them
all to the living room and made Tracy sit. "I'll get it."
Coke chuckled. "Did y'all find a movie?"
They'd needed a dolly to get all of it in. They'd gotten
it all: drums, guitars, the stands, and microphones. And
the console to play it all on.
"Dude." That was Nate, blinking. "Y'all! Dude!"
Coke looked over and blushed a dark red. "Tracy,
you gave us up!"
"I did." Tracy laughed. "I had to. Dillon had to be in."
Coke looked a little flustered, but Nate nudged him.
"Shit, Hoss. He'll be good at it. It'll be great. Help me
get shit hooked up. Baby doll, get us a little liquid
lubrication?"
Dillon chuckled. That was the spirit. He got Tracy sat
down and went to get the beer. Nothing harder.
Coke and Nate were laughing already by the time he
got back, packaging and wires everywhere. Tracy was
watching them with a soft smile, and Dillon stood by the
door, just staring for a minute. He could see Coke as a
teenager, goofing off with a friend, relaxed and happy. It
was a happy picture, and it made him wonder why he
never heard stories about Coke from before he became a
bullfighter.
Most guys, there was something. Coke just came
fully formed. Like Athena out of Zeus' head. It was
bizarre. "I brought the beer!"
"Yay!" The bullfighters cheered together, both of
them sitting on the floor in front of the television.
Roughstock: And a Smile Coke s Clown - 99
Dillon cackled and handed out beer, and gave Tracy a
Coke. He had a sparkling water, because he intended to
sing.
It took half an hour and two beers per bullfighter, but
there were soon guitars, microphones, drums, and five
different sets of songs to choose from. Coke popped in a
disc, handed Tracy the remote. "For the volume."
"I'm on it."
Dillon glanced at Tracy. "You don't play?"
She winked. "I'm the person in charge of noise and
also the only girl allowed in the room. I take my
responsibilities very seriously."
"Be good, woman. We bought you a tambourine for
the house." Nate was already getting a little flushed.
A tambourine. Oh, God. Dillon popped up off the
couch. "I have maracas! I'll be right back."
The laughter followed him all the way back to the
little music room he had in the back.
"It figures you'd have maracas," Nate told him when
he came back into the room.
Dillon flipped him off. "I know how to shake them,
too."
Tracy bounced and took them. "We're starting with
'Shook Me All Night Long.' Get ready."
Dillon noticed Coke's eyes dragging over his body at
the thought of shaking it.
Nice.
They might have to sneak out to the truck or
something to get busy, but he could see it. Like, soon.
Nate tossed him the mic and they started, Tracy
whispering explanations. Nate and Coke chose the
hardest level, and when the song started, he damn near
dropped his jaw. Look at Coke's fingers go.
Roughstock: And a Smile Coke s Clown - 100
In fact, he lost them the round because he purely
forgot to sing, and even as good as they played, they
couldn't save him.
"Sorry! Sorry. Can we start over?"
Nate hooted. "Absolutely!"
Apparently winning wasn't the goal, here. Goofing
off was.
This time Dillon sang his heart out and proved that he
had perfect pitch once and for all. Hell, two beers later
he was singing Matchbox 20 and prowling around the
front room like a kitty in heat. He could feel Coke's eyes
on him, but to his lover's credit, not one beat was
missed. Hell, Tracy gave him a standing ovation while
Nate tossed him a beer.
His cheeks heated up, but hey, he was a performer,
right? He cooled off with the beer, and with taking
Jerome out to potty.
He heard the boys singing when he came out, Coke
doing a respectable Def Leppard while Nate howled.
Jerome's ears perked up and that long muzzle lifted, the
hound puppy joining along.
Dillon laughed, grabbing a bacon on the way through
the kitchen so Jerome would follow. By the time he got
to the front room, Jerome was trotting and howling and
Pansy was yarping along, her yodel much higher
pitched. Tracy was rolling on the sofa, laughing so hard
she held her stomach, and Nate was at the guitar,
chicken walking across the floor like Chuck Berry.
Dillon howled in time with the pups, and Coke really
poured himself into it, wailing like a crazy man.
When the song ended, he landed in Coke's lap, the
strong arms wrapping around him as the laughter filled
the room.
Roughstock: And a Smile Coke s Clown - 101
Dillon thought about taking a kiss, but being a couple
in front of people was still pretty new, so he settled for a
hug. "You rock out good, babe."
"Thanks for the game, cowboy. I sure do like it."
Coke looked awake, and more relaxed than Dillon had
seen him since Sammy's accident.
"Me too!" Tracy was nodding a little all of a sudden,
Pansy licking her hand where it dangled over the arm of
the couch.
Nate grinned. "Been a long day, huh? All that
traveling. Come on, baby. I bet Dillon's guest bathroom
is bigger than our kitchen."
"Mmm. We could... I mean, I need a shower." She
turned bright pink.
"Uh-huh." Standing, Nate held out a hand to his wife.
"Night, y'all."
"Night, Nattie. Pancakes in the morning, huh?" It said
something -- a lot -- that Coke didn't move him off to
hug Tracy good night.
"You know it, Hoss." Nate and Tracy waved and
disappeared, heading off to go do what they were gonna
do.
Dillon nuzzled Coke's neck a little. "Happy, babe?"
"Mmm. I am. Love to hear you sing." Coke was
humming, rocking him.
"I like to sing." He wiggled. "Like it better when you
watch me dance."
Coke gave him a great, strangled little sound.
"Yeah. That was good huh?"
"Yes. It was. I love to watch you..." One hand slid
over his thigh.
"Mmm. Wanna go lock ourselves in the bedroom?"
He wanted privacy for what he was about to do.
"Hell yes." Coke's lips brushed the back of his neck.
"Now is good for me."
Roughstock: And a Smile Coke s Clown - 102
"Cool." That was what he wanted to hear. They spent
five minutes settling the bassets and turning stuff off.
Then they headed for bed hand in hand.
Coke shut the door behind them, locked it, and
leaned, smiling at him.
"Hey, babe." He turned, going right into Coke's arms.
"Cowboy." Coke's hands landed on his ass like they
belonged there.
They did, really. Coke's and no one else's. "Missed
you today."
"Yeah. It's good to have them here, but there's
something nice about just... being."
"You know it." He leaned a moment, listening to
Coke's heartbeat. "They had fun, though, huh?"
"They did." Coke's hand stroked through his hair,
slow and easy, and his bullfighter hummed softly,
sounding perfectly happy.
"Mmm. Love how you feel, babe." Coke was solid,
warm.
"Good." Coke picked him up, carried him to the bed
before he had a chance to point out that Coke wasn't
supposed to be lifting. It was hot, though, so once he
was down, what could he really complain about? Dillon
wiggled out of his sweats, spreading a little.
Coke groaned, licked his lips, eyes wandering over
his body as the man undressed. "Finest man in
bullriding."
"Come and get me, babe." He'd put Coke on the
bottom, actually, but Coke didn't need to know that yet.
The mattress dipped as Coke climbed on, and one
hand slipped up his leg. "Gotcha."
"Mmm. Now what?" He could think of, like, a
gazillion things.
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